


The Night That Could Have Been

by FleshDust



Category: The Strain (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Blood, Dark, Dominance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, POV Vaun, Pain, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Stinger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 19:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleshDust/pseuds/FleshDust
Summary: Just a nasty one-shot with Vaun and an OC from another story of mine. Shameless porn and some stinger stuff thrown in because reasons. POV Vaun.





	The Night That Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> A piece of smutty filth that I decided to write today. POV Vaun with an unnamed OC, but really, she's from my other Strain story. Much simpler to write nasty porn when I don't have to think up a new person. Fucking, just because. As always, I don't do the very romantic fluffy stuff, and there's a stinger doing some things. So... yeah.

She laid sprawled on her back upon the bedding in the chambers with a cigarette between her fingers. I watched her from the doorway as she inhaled the smoke, then forming a little “o” with her lips. Little rings of smoke followed in quick succession, floating toward the ceiling and dissolving as if they had never existed in the first place.

Upon the next inhalation, she noticed me and smiled, abandoning her smoke ring project and instead exhaling trails of smoke from between her teeth. The tendrils dissipated just as fast as their ringed counterparts, leaving behind the acrid, but still somehow agreeable smell of dead, dry plant matter. Dropping her cigarette in an empty soda can on the floor, she rose and stretched her body languidly. The embers of the cigarette made an angry little hiss as the dregs of the soda extinguished it.

“Hey,” she said, approaching me.

I almost, _almost_ stepped back as her tobacco-scented fingers reached up and pulled down the black hood that obscured my features. It was a difficult habit to break; my visage had never been a remotely welcome sight to the humans that had seen me.

And I was still not accustomed to this direct manner of hers, no matter how much we had shared. But she would rarely have any of it, simply doing what she wanted most of the time. Her fingers skittered lightly across a diagonal scar along my jaw.

She gave me another small grin and tugged lightly on my ear then, causing a tingling sensation to traverse my bare, scarred scalp and disappear at the base of my spine. I could feel the ridges of my ears grow warmer, and a leaned into her with a low growl. My stinger, thankfully, stayed silent and still in my chest, disinterested.

I felt a shudder from her as I brought my face to her throat to draw a thin scratch there with my teeth. The pleased little sigh that she uttered made me want to push her down and fuck her raw right then. Twine my fingers into her dark hair and take her, take her again, and again, until she bled and sobbed and writhed with pain and pleasure.

“You all right?” she inquired then, removing her hand from my ear.

I nodded silently, aware that she knew where I had been and what I had been doing. It was something that she pointedly chose to ignore, even though I knew that the knowledge of my need to feed on the blood of her kinsmen disturbed and enraged her sometimes. It had come to a head a few times, becoming a very human spectacle of raw anger. I didn't disagree.

And still she stayed with me, with the _strigoi_ inside of me, and she knew that the _strigoi_ and I were one. Even though sometimes, it was easier for me to pretend different. But without me, the _strigoi_ inside of me could not be. Without the _strigoi_ inside of me, _I_ could not be.

By now, she was able to tell from the change in my body heat and the appearance of my skin that I had fed. Thankfully, she said nothing now, only reached up to snake her arms around me briefly, and then turned back to her bedding.

A little wave of her scent blew past me as she turned. It was a mix of tobacco, female musk, the blood pulsing under her skin and the smell of the sun, which truly never dissipated from her. Or perhaps I was just imagining it, but it didn't matter.

“You were gone long this time,” she said, lying down on her back on the bedding.

She was wearing a pair of bulky cargo trousers and a too-large shirt that obscured the soft body beneath. I felt an obsolete breath hitch in my throat as I watched her move.

“Yes,” I agreed.

Four days of fighting, hunting my _strigoi_ kin, and finally countering the resulting exhaustion by drinking a young man with hair the color of straw, his knuckles turning white as he clutched my stinger where it attached to his throat. His efforts had been in vain, and I watched the sentience in his eyes wink out as I took from him the blood I really had no right to take.

She beckoned me to lie down with her, and I obliged, but she stopped me briefly.

“Take the Kevlar crap off,” she told me, “It’s scratchy.”

She helped me divest myself of the black vest, and the cumbersome sweater underneath. I could hear little caches of bullets and clips and buckles and zippers clink as she tossed the garments to the floor. My vest held many of these little nooks where many small, lethal silver things could be hidden.

I wasn't even sure if she was willing to do anything tonight as we just laid there, staring at the concrete ceiling in mutual silence. I could feel my cock stir and stiffen a little simply due to her proximity. Finally, she spoke.

“I’m glad you're back.”

“Me, too,” I replied, and started a little when her hand landed on the front of my trousers.

She didn't need to ask me, she knew that I'd wouldn't deny her. And then her fingers were kneading my cock through the rough fabric and I felt myself swell and swell there until it felt like the skin would split and weep.

I wrestled on top of her and wrenched her thighs open with my own, settling between them and grinding against her heat briefly. Hissing at her, I planted a hand around her throat, but not enough to choke her.

Her quickening pulse beating under my fingertips prompted me to grab the hem of her shirt and yank it up to her chin. She gasped with fear at my actions, bucking against me slightly and I could not help but to smile darkly. That fear… that exquisite blend of fear and desire when I handled her like this, was intoxicating.

I knew that she relished it despite this rough dance of ours, despite her squirming and writhing. I raised myself off her and tore open her trousers, yanking them off hard enough for a couple of seams to protest with little ripping sounds that excited me on a primal level.

Her fingers pushed into my wrist, reminding me to ease the grip around her throat a little. Her round, small breasts were pressed together due to the pressure of her forearms as she clutched my wrist. Her pale body bore the scars of her past skin condition, but it also bore the marks of our unions.

The marks of my teeth in different stage of healing emblazoned many parts of her body now. Breasts, hips, throat, belly, shoulders, thighs… I had marked her so many times, her screams filling my ears and my body filling hers with sterile seed, yet I knew that I would do it again and again.

Her ecstasy and agony when I savaged her flesh in this manner had rendered me wholly addicted. And my addiction was only rivaled by her own.

I released her throat then, and she made a little mewling sound. I looked down on her body. Her little breasts; her white belly, the dip in her waist that then gave way to the rounded curve of her hips. Her quivering thighs.

“Vaun…” she sighed when I crawled down her body, scraping her dark pink nipples with my teeth.

And then she screamed as I simultaneously sank my teeth into her lower belly and pushed two fingers inside of her. She arched her back and sobbed with the pain, but did not demand that I stop. She never had. I withdrew my teeth from her tender flesh then, softly licking the blood that beaded at the fresh cuts, moving my fingers inside of her and she rolled her hips against my hand.

“Oh…” she groaned when my mouth connected with the pink flesh between her thighs. I could not help but to growl into her.

I removed my fingers from her and placed my hands on her hips when she squirmed. The silken feel of her warm sex upon my tongue was dizzying; the taste of her piquant arousal nearly enough to make me bite again.

But I knew that this was one place that would earn me a cuff on the head and some colorful language should I use my teeth. I chuckled internally as I remembered doing just that the first time she had prompted me to do this. My head had rung like a bell when she instinctively clocked me.

But I had learned some other tricks since. I continued to tongue her, feeling her flesh slicken further, the little sensitive spot there swell when I pressed my tongue onto it. When she arched her back with a whining noise, I unhinged my jaws with a guttural groan.

She cried out and her hands frenetically grabbed my head as I fed my proboscis into her, careful to keep the actual stinger and the mandibles on its sides folded away to keep from hurting her. The sight of the appendage that I hated entering this female that I cared for was strangely cathartic.

“Vaun, please… please…” she begged as I allowed my stinger to curve inside of her and pulse hard against her womb and for a second, I wanted to force it deeper into her, but knowing that it would truly damage her, I refused the compulsion immediately.

She was more than ready now. Her voice pleading for me to be inside of her, to fuck her, was sweeter than any other sound, sweeter even than satisfying the blood-hunger. I swallowed my proboscis down again, tasting her on it as it passed my oral cavity on its way down into the cage of my chest. The flesh between her legs was slick and swollen and inviting.

It had actually been her idea, initially. She had laughed a rather mad laugh as she asked me if my stinger could do other things except just feed. I didn't understand at all until she had described what was in her strange head in great detail.

It was beyond disturbing. And beyond enthralling.

And I couldn't really say no to her.

I did ask her how she had thought of this, especially since I had never even been able to fathom such a thing. My stinger had, to me, always been an instrument that did not deal pleasure to humans, only death. With a creepy giggle, she told me that everything becomes phallic in the head of a hedonist. I wasn't sure what she meant, but I hadn't inquired further.

Though I had to admit that now I was glad that her peculiar mind had thought of it. It gave me no physical pleasure to do it, but to see, hear, and taste her pleasure allowed me to, at least temporarily, make peace with the thing in my chest that reminded me of what I truly was.

She was tugging on my ears again, mumbling at me to hurry up, do it, do it now.

I crawled up her prone body and she smiled when I came face to face with her. Saline tracks of tears, presumably from when I bit her lower stomach, had dried on her flushed cheeks.

Her arms circled my neck and she lifted her head, planting a hard bite on my jaw with her dull teeth. The pain shot through me like wildfire, setting my nerves afire and causing my cock to stiffen further inside my trousers. Strange, how the tightness of my trousers could be so uncomfortable, but the tightness of her wet flesh was the exact opposite.

I reached down between us and undid my trousers; I had become rather adept at doing so one-handed. She did not seem to mind a whole lot that only my upper body was unclothed at the moment, she just helped me lower my trousers by kicking at them from around my hips.

“Leave it,” she hissed when I moved to remove my boots and trousers entirely, and I obliged. The need to be inside of her was overwhelming.

She moaned something unintelligible when I allowed my turgid cock to slide against her.

A deep, bestial noise escaped my throat, rattling and hissing, as I breached her small opening and worked myself into her. She groaned and panted, her passage slippery and tight, yet so very welcoming. Finally, I slid fully into her, my pubic bone flush against her and somehow my palm was clutching at her breast and her moan of pleasure reverberated into my flesh when she bit me again, her teeth in my neck this time.

It didn't make sense. I knew that my body temperature ran much higher than that of a human, yet her female flesh hugged me with a type of heat that felt much warmer than what should have been possible. Living heat. Willing, welcoming heat.

Straightening, I pulled her hips into my lap and started thrusting in earnest, watching my white, hard flesh disappear into her, and appear again, only to be pushed into her again, hard. I reveled in the little noises of pleasure and pain that I could wrench from her.

I wanted to pleasure her, selflessly, but I also wanted to hurt her, break her completely, and put her back together again. And it was what she wanted too, and it was exactly what she did to me.

I withdrew from her and pulled her up, turning her around roughly and pushing her into the nearest wall. Her sweaty palms slapped upon the gray concrete to gain leverage, but before she could do anything I kneeled behind her and one of my hands was on her throat again, the other spreading her flesh and I stabbed up into her, growling and snarling at how good it felt, hearing her scream and plead me for more, _Vaun please, more, more…_

Next I found myself fucking her in a different position, my unrelenting grasp at the back of her neck, pushing her face and upper body down into the bedding while forcing her hips aloft with my other hand.

She attempted to rise when I removed the hand that had pushed her down, but I warned her not to, and aborting her attempt to do anything by shoving myself into her hard enough to make her utter a wail of pain. This position made her impossibly tighter, but I reveled in splitting apart the resistance of her flesh, growling at her to stay down while I fucked her, clasping her hip with one hand to get deep into her and listening to the air being pushed out of her lungs as I did so.

I allowed the fingers of my other hand to skitter across her other opening and without warning, I sank a finger into the tight circle of flesh. At this, she came, howling wordlessly into the bedding and contracting around me, her hands fisting the blankets.

I allowed the savage thing within me to fuck her shamelessly until her body ran slick with sweat and she was sobbing dryly with fatigue and the aching aftermath of her orgasms. And I finally came after trying to prolong it as long as I could, a bowstring within me tightening and then snapping.

And then my teeth were in the back of her neck, tugging viciously, and so another scar was added to her collection. My seed spilled into her, and as I filled her body, I filled my head with her, this strange female who stayed with me, shared her body with me and accepted, even reveled, in all that I was. And simply because she wanted to.

Afterward, she smoked another cigarette in the bedding where she slept. My seed slowly slipped out from between her slightly parted thighs. The sight made me want to take her again, but it was as if she knew what I was thinking.

“Hey pal,” she chuckled tiredly, “I do need a little bit of a sabbatical. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a teenager. And that would just be all sorts of weird.”

She laughed softly again after taking another drag off her cigarette.

“That's not to say that our current situation isn't already a bit weird.”

The corners of my elongated mouth fluttered upward as I wiped our combined fluids off me with my fingers and closed my trousers. Then she watched me with an amused look as I licked the result of our coupling off my fingers, and she did not protest when I did the same between her thighs. She simply smoked her cigarette with a little smile and stared at the ceiling.

I rose to a kneeling position then and and bade her rise. When she did so, I pulled her shirt back down from where it had tangled above her breasts. She retrieved the cigarette that she had balanced on an empty soda can and laid back down, prompting me to lie down at her side.

Her small hand clasped mine and she smoked the rest of her cigarette in silence. The smoke prickled in my nostrils. It was an acrid scent, but not necessarily unpleasant. It came from her, after all. Relaxing, I closed my eyes and slept.

 

 


End file.
